


A Spark of Christmas

by rayshant_bestopt



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Christmas Smut, M/M, Mirakuru army, Oliver with prosthetic arm, Oral Sex, movie date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-20 08:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayshant_bestopt/pseuds/rayshant_bestopt
Summary: In what remains of Star City, Barry and Oliver get their stronghold ready for transferring citizens to safety.  Barry decides to spruce the place up for Christmas, and Oliver decides to make some Christmas cheer of their own.





	A Spark of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This post-apocalyptic setting is based on the Starling City in _Legends of Tomorrow_ 's Star City 2046, but closer to present day.

Barry flitted around the large hall in a red blur, tiny bits of ribbon and decorative newspaper in hand that he’d carefully cut and crafted into festive shapes before stuffing into every crack and cranny of the room to lift the mood. Even the dingy old lights had some colored glass over them to try to create some cheer before the refugees arrived. 

It was odd how things worked out. A Mirakuru army had swept through Star City, gangs of criminals had risen, the Metas had taken over Central, and yet there were still tiny spots where people could be hidden away safely; tiny flickers of hope. Barry recalled being aware of the “bad” parts of town growing up, and now he chuckled wryly at the idea of the “good” part of town standing small and precariously in the Old Town district, with their theater acting as the stronghold for the area. 

A light flashed, along with a low, heavy buzzing, and Barry zipped over to the security feed. It was only Ollie, finished with his perimeter check to reinforce the barricades around them; but you could never be sure in times like these. The archer walked with just as much purpose and weight on his shoulders as he always had, and Barry hoped that the decorations might lift his spirits a little: or at least maybe other people’s enjoyment of them.

Oliver strode through the door, and Barry made sure to be there to greet him with a smile. “Merry Christmas, Ollie!” he enthused, grabbing a paper hat with a silly ribbon flourish from the table to match his own and pulling back the other’s hood in order to put it on. “How’d the sweep go?”

“Everything’s secure." The former mayor of Star City's tone remained sober, his no-nonsense expression clashing with the silly hat he allowed Barry to fit over his unkempt locks as he continued, "The transport will drop off the civilians from the west entrance, and Cisco will Breach in over there in—” his eyes darted down to his watch “—a little over three hours to move them to Lisa and Caitlin at the rendezvous point.”

“And the theater in the back is all set up, so we can have a little Christmas cheer in the meantime,” Barry added with a grin. He and Cisco had dug through every computer system they could access in order to find an old time Christmas movie, especially when they found out that this group would be mostly families and little kids. Along with some popcorn Barry had popped himself (yay super-friction abilities) and the decorations, it was kind of like a sliver of nostalgia, when the holidays were a happier time.

One hand curled around his waist as Oliver leaned in to kiss him, and Barry used both of his own to pull him closer, fingers twisting through the short strands of his dirty blonde hair. There was a dull thud as the heavy door locked behind them, and the two stepped backward together further into the warmth of the main room without separating.

“Actually, I brought you a sort of Christmas present before everyone gets here…” Ollie whispered, fingers snaking into his jacket and pulling out a tiny thumb drive. “I found a Christmas movie that _didn't_ feature clay elves that I thought we could watch together, and…” he pulled out a rectangular box. “I stole these from Cisco.”

Barry smiled at the box of Red Vines and the tiny drive. “Oliver Queen, are you asking me on a _date_?” Oliver’s face twisted up into a rare genuine smile, and Barry leaned over to kiss him again. 

One of Barry’s hands slowly trailed down the larger frame surrounding him, ghosting carefully down Ollie’s left shoulder, carefully covered from top to fingertips in leather. Oliver tensed slightly, but allowed Barry to twine his fingers in between the gloved digits, bringing the hand up to rest over his neck. The former mayor-vigilante still wasn’t terribly comfortable with the robotic prosthetic arm Cisco had painstakingly crafted for him after he’d lost his own, despite having mastered it as an extension of his weapon. It had taken ages for Barry to pull him away from his training in order to draw him back to _them_ , to get Oliver to allow himself to get used to touching him again.

Barry sympathized with the loss, but he loved Ollie regardless, robot arm or otherwise. And Cisco was right—this one was pretty cool, and it came with a neural transplant, so his boyfriend could still feel sensations with it. However, between the loss and the destruction of their cities, it was harder than usual to keep Oliver’s spirit up. Which was why Barry was positively ecstatic that the man wasn’t fighting him now at his efforts.

Apparently, Ollie had really been hit with the Christmas spirit this year, because the bristles of his perma-stubble had suddenly begun tickling Barry’s neck as the older man began nipping at the sensitive flesh. He let out a quiet moan at the feel of his tongue pressing a line along his pulse point, hot breath hitting the dampened skin and causing a shiver up his spine.

“The movie…?” Barry breathed even as he angled his neck upwards, granting the man more access as he sucked and marked down along the speedster’s collar, dipping down past the fabric of his sweater. 

“We’ve got time,” a husky chuckle replied, muffled slightly as its owner was burying himself into Barry’s skin.

Fingers crept along the hem of the fabric, dipping upward and along the lanky meta’s stomach as Oliver’s gloved prosthetic shifted to pin him in place. Barry gasped slightly as the calloused fingers teased along his lower abdomen, nails scratching as they raked around his waist and up his back, before suddenly thrusting to grind against him and causing Barry to let out a gasp as his body bucked desperately in response.

Oh god—how long had it been? Between the criminals and the evacuating citizens, Barry couldn’t remember when the last time he and Ollie had had a real moment for each other. Although most of his brain wasn’t really focusing on thinking presently, as his boyfriend’s erection pressed hard against his own beneath the fabrics separating them.

Barry half-considered zipping them to their cot down the hall, the small space in the back they’d set up for when they could get some downtime, for privacy; but it suddenly felt so far away, and he didn’t want Ollie to stop what he was doing for anything, and the large decorative lobby was festive and welcoming for the refugees. So he simply let out a moan and grappled to try to grab at his boyfriend’s muscular form.

His fingers made their way downward, fumbling with Ollie’s fly as the older man made every effort to distract him with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. The whines and pants escaping Barry bounced off of the brick walls almost embarrassingly, desperate as the heat of Oliver’s figure crowded him into their corner. 

He finally managed to loosen Ollie’s pants, triumphantly sliding his hand beneath the waistband and stealing low to wrap his fingers around the shaft. Oliver nipped him hard as his breath caught, and Barry grinned as he extended a finger down to the base of his prize, pulling upwards with a twist to bask in the girth of the man’s hard cock. God he’d missed being this close.

Barry quirked his wrist as he reached the head, swiping over the slit to catch the leaking precum and pulled his hand out, eyes glinting mischievously at Oliver as he popped the slick finger into his mouth. Oliver’s reply was a rough groan, followed by renewed strength as he attacked the speedster and began ripping at his clothes.

What followed was an awkward, impatient grappling at ties and zips and buttons, leaving Oliver's jacket open to expose his scarred, muscular chest, and his pants shoved down to his thighs, while only Barry's chicken legs were left in his socks-- sweater, jeans, and boxers all cast aside along the floor. Oliver’s hands were gripping the younger’s ass, the leather glove kneading into him in a way that made Barry’s mind spin. The speedster reached between them, spindly fingers sliding in between their bodies to grab hold of both their cocks. Barry considered the lube in the back room, but he just didn’t have the patience. It’s been too long without having Oliver with him like this, and he couldn't imagine stepping away for even a fraction of a second. 

His hands shook, just a little—or maybe they were just vibrating in his nervous enthusiasm—as his grip pulled them together, tugging and pulsing as he worked them both. Ollie’s head braced in the crook of his neck, little gasping sounds escaping him as he bucked into the long, soft fingers. 

“ _Dammit_ , Barr.” The words, gritted out tightly, brought a jolt of electricity through Barry’s veins as Ollie’s hips rolled against him. He couldn’t get enough, squeezing the flesh between his hands and breathing in the slick sweat accumulating between them. His body impulsively moved before conscious thought caught up with him, deciding to change tactics.

With a strength Ollie tended to forget Barry possessed (he wasn’t _just_ speed, after all), the archer found himself spun around and replacing the younger man against the support beam, a blink of surprise all he had to process the change before Barry dropped down in front of him. The hardwood was unforgiving against his bare knees, but the speedster ignored it, keeping his eyes locked on the blue gaze above him as he slid his hands up the sleek green Kevlar-blend until he hit exposed thighs, grasping at the taut muscles and leaning forward as he took in Ollie’s swollen cock. 

Oliver’s eyes popped, a sight Barry would never tire of seeing, and he let out a breathy “ _Fuck_ ” as Barry’s tongue dipped along the underside of the shaft. He released one thigh to bring his hand to the front, fingering his balls gently before fisting the base of the shaft that his mouth couldn’t reach. Barry hollowed out his cheeks and let out a quiet hum as he dived back in, hand and mouth creating a steady rhythm over the sensitive skin.

A nonsensical string of curse and praise followed, with Oliver’s prosthetic hand unthinkingly threading through the shaggy mane. The grip was tighter than Barry remembered, but whether that was from the tech or just an overly-enthusiastic response after going so long without, Barry didn’t know--and he wasn’t complaining in the slightest. He reveled in the way Oliver braced against the wall, fighting to stand, to restrain himself. The fact that it was _him_ , _his_ mouth, _his_ hands, making his boyfriend fall apart, was something that left Barry in awe, and didn't think he'd ever get over.

Barry picked up his speed, carefully pushing the tip of Ollie’s cock to the back of his throat and swallowing over it. He unwrapped his hand at the base, cupping his grip so that he could tug lightly at the balls pulling tightly against the archer’s body. Oliver’s mutterings turned to a breathy warning, and Barry moved to dip his mouth in further again. The older man bucked, causing Barry to choke slightly as he pulled back, cum spurting hot down his throat. Besides a bit of it coating his lip, the younger man managed to hold it down, carefully sliding his mouth up and down the softening shaft to coax out the entirety of the orgasm.

Oliver’s grip on his hair had gone lax, head flopped back against the brick as he breathed heavily. When Barry pulled off of him, thumb swiping at his lip, his gaze dropped down to his boyfriend, hunching over to pull the man to his feet. A lazy smile appeared on his face as Oliver grabbed Barry’s wrist, pulling his thumb toward him and licking his own cum off. Barry shivered, and his dick throbbed in anticipation as Oliver’s hand stole between them, wrapping his calloused fingers around his length.

Barry would argue the fact that it had been a long time since he’d been intimate with his boyfriend as the reason he didn’t take long to peak. He also tended to be quick to begin with, unfortunately-- Oliver was just damned good with his hands. So Barry mewled and keened and bit hard into the archer’s shoulder as he worked him over, his fingers digging into the leather-coated metal that was his bicep but not giving a shit because it was Ollie and he loved every part of the man with every part of him. Barry wanted to tell Oliver as much, but as his orgasm hit him hard and desperately, he only managed to choke out three of the important words. The still-functioning part of his brain made a vague promise that he’d do better next time as he slumped up against the warmth of Oliver’s scarred torso, nose breathing in the familiar sweat that left him feeling safe and loved.

For a while, they simply breathed, exposed and boneless against each other, Oliver’s gloved thumb tracings slow circles over Barry’s bare skin. Then the archer shifted, and Barry tilted his head upwards to find the gorgeous blue gaze on him.

“So…do we still have time for the movie?” Oliver gave a soft chuckle, which the speedster took as an affirmative, grabbing his boyfriend and their clothes and whisking them to the screening room. Another millisecond and his fully dressed self was uploading the disc into the tablet, turning on the projector and sped back to his seat, popping open the Red Vines and curling up next to Oliver, who was still fixing his pants and zipping up his jacket.

“Merry Christmas, Barr,” Oliver murmured, his arm draping over his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Ollie,” Barry whispered back happily, giving a soft sigh of contentment as the music started playing, before his eyebrow arched in disbelief. 

“Seriously, Ollie? _Die Hard_?”


End file.
